


don't go out in the woods today (stay inside, we have coffee!)

by Medie



Category: Smallville, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-21
Updated: 2010-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all, this is Smallville, a freak on the loose is business as usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't go out in the woods today (stay inside, we have coffee!)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [](http://storydivagirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**storydivagirl**](http://storydivagirl.livejournal.com/), [](http://piper47.livejournal.com/profile)[**piper47**](http://piper47.livejournal.com/) and [](http://manicmarauder88.livejournal.com/profile)[**manicmarauder88**](http://manicmarauder88.livejournal.com/) for their betas. written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/spncross/profile)[**spncross**](http://community.livejournal.com/spncross/) challenge

The third body in as many weeks brings out all the kooks and Smallville is swarming with newcomers when Chloe comes home. People come from all over to hunt whatever's been hunting the town. Nothing brings out the yokels like the promise of a lotta green and these yokels like a little black with their green. The Talon's packed solid when she arrives for her morning shot of java.

"Same old, same old, huh?" She announces as greeting to a harried Lana, slapping her palms down on the lacquered counter top. "A little crazy and the whole town goes nuts." It's vaguely reminiscent of _Jaws_, with the locals huddled together whispering and fussing over poor Stephanie Powers, the latest victim, while the outsiders laugh and joke about the reward money. There's a few reporters sprinkled into the mix, listening or getting ready for the day, and she recognizes a few faces and waves off a couple more. They all know she's a local and she's not going to be their local colour. Two of the dead were her friends in high school and Chloe didn't come home for a story whether it's one she writes or appears in. Chloe's come home to stop the dying, she'll worry about Perry, deadlines, and her rent money later. Home and hearth get first priority.

Lana latches on to the familiar face with the desperate strength of a drowning man and Chloe doesn't have to ask how she's doing. The bloodshot eyes and lined face answer the question before it ever need be voiced. Lana doesn't need this now, Smallville exploding with crazy rifle toting yahoos and dead residents. She's got enough on her hands with Pete's election, Nell's cancer diagnosis and her own pregnancy. Anything else and she's going down for the count. "It's so good to see you," she blurts the words out, brightening up. "Help?" She tosses off the question airily but there's a plaintive plea hidden inside.

Chloe answers the plea with an outstretched hand, "Gimme an apron and then go lie down. Pete'll kill me if he sees you like this." She doesn't hesitate and Lana doesn't resist. It's barely nine in the morning and Lana's already exhausted, no surprise since she doesn't wear pregnancy well. Tiny frame and a rotund body, Lana doesn't walk so much as she waddles up the stairs and Chloe's going to kill Pete if Lana doesn't do it first. Labor's going to be hell and if they're not careful, it's going to happen in the middle of the biggest mess to hit the town in, oh, weeks.

After all, this is Smallville, a freak on the loose is business as usual.

*

Her back aches, her feet are sore, she's eavesdropping, and in short, she's having the time of her life. She learned in college the best way to get good dirt was to become the help because no one pays attention to who's pouring the coffee. Looking disinterested while pouring coffee at a glacial rate and avoiding wandering hands is a skill she mastered in order to scoop some of journalism's finest. It has meant playing the ditzy, dumb blonde - something her inner feminist will never forgive - but she's practical. She gets the job done and bad guys are busted. If she gets her name in the byline by using their cock against them, it's their own damn fault.

In this case, it's mostly the grabby hands she's got to worry about; most of these guys wouldn't recognize a reporter if Perry White slammed through the door and yelled out her name.

Safe in her disguise, she wanders amongst the tables refilling coffee and listening to the conversations. Most of them know nothing about what's going on except the two guys in the back who catch her eye. They seem to be another story. Huddled together over a laptop (always promising as she well knows), they're alternatively reading the screen and watching everyone else the same way she is. They're hiding it better but they're looking.

"Anything I can help you with?" She pastes on her most innocent of smiles, leaning in. The younger of the two beams a smile which fails to distract her from the fact he carefully, and subtly, angles the laptop so she can't see. The older grins at her words and she can practically *see* what he's thinking (she's totally not that limber) and he should be glad he's hot. If he weren't, he'd be unconscious about now. "And trust me," she pats his shoulder, refills his cup, "not even in your dreams." _But definitely in mine..._

Momentarily taken aback by her comment, his grin broadens and Chloe knows she's in for it when he sprawls back in the booth. "You're right, I'm thinking the back office?"

The laugh escapes her before she can stop it. "You get points for that one," she comments, refilling their coffee. "Not much else, but you get points."

He makes a show of being crestfallen, it's cute. Not cute enough to distract her but still cute.

"So, what brings you boys to town?" She drawls out the words, playing up the friendly waitress shtick for all its worth. "The money, the glory, or the shiny green rocks?"

"Neither," the younger one answers, lying through his teeth. "We're on the way to Central City."

And apparently had the worst sense of direction she'd ever seen, Clark was Davy Crockett compared to these guys, since in no way, shape, or form was Smallville on the way to Central City. Definite detour.

The same thoughts are playing out on the older guy's face, netting him still more points, and he leans in to get her attention to distract her away from the laptop. "I'm Dean, the guy with the crappy sense of direction's my brother, Sam."

Sam rolls his eyes at the comment and then stares intently at the computer screen, Chloe thinks she'd give her right arm to find out what he's looking at.

"Picked a hell of a time to be passing through," she knows she's lingered too long, sees the suspicion creeping into Dean's eyes, and plasters on her brightest of smiles, "try not to get eaten."

She sweeps away, crossing the room to top off the sheriff's coffee...

She's pretty sure Dean's staring at her ass.

*

Their last name's Winchester and Dean is dead (of course he is). Specifically, he died while he was the suspect of a whole lot of home invasions that involved beatings and, oh great, murder. After spending the day helping Lana, Chloe retreats back to her place with her laptop to track down her two best leads. She finds enough evidence to convince her that American police departments are vastly under funded because these boys have been busy, so has their father.

She traces everything back to Lawrence, Kansas and grins at that. Kansas needs to change its slogan, clearly it's the home of the wild and wacky since Lawrence is one Slayer short of a WB spin-off and Smallville...

Well, it's _Smallville_.

Either way, the brothers Winchester seem to be making a career out of this stuff and with the way people in their lives keep turning up dead by fire (their mother, Sam's girlfriend)...she can't blame them for trying. One thing she's learned about living in a place like Smallville, or situations like the Winchesters, there's no room for waffling.

So, she's got herself a couple professional monster hunters in town with a potential monster on the loose...thankfully, the local alien boy is off discovering the world or they'd be one priest and one rabbi short of a really bad joke.

*

"I like the car."

She announces her presence with a comment and a hand outstretched bearing coffee. Dean jumps and, for a second, she can see muscles tensing for a confrontation. Sneaking up on professional monster hunter = bad.

"I come bearing gifts," she smiles in the dark, tilting her head and giving him her best "'lil ole' me, what harm am I?" look. It doesn't work but she has a feeling _she's_ getting the points this time.

Dean takes the coffee, leans up against the impala and when she gets a glimpse of his body's outline beneath his t-shirt, she decides somewhere there's a calendar missing Mr. January and she really should be sending them flowers. "Bad idea to sneak up on a guy like that, what with a fuzzy wuzzy carving folks up around here."

"Hmmm, true," she affirms with a light-hearted smile. "Except for the part where I'm pretty sure it's a garden-variety wolf with a not-so garden variety diet and we really need to talk because, really, Dean? You look pretty good, scratch that, you look pretty hot for a guy who's supposed to be decomposing in St. Louis right now." He blinks in shock and she leans in, laying all the cards on the table. It's a damn risky move but despite her research, she's pretty sure she's in no danger. After all, she's the girl of telekinetic, psychotic boyfriends and friends prone to possession by seventeenth century witches...if she can't handle Dean Winchester and his abs, she's going to have to hand in her maglite and her laptop because she's clearly got no business chasing down meteor freaks.

He opens his mouth and she's sure he's got about fifty different lies to cover that one but she's not in the mood to listen.

"Look, if you wanted to hide the family business, you picked the wrong damn town to hang out in." She grins and leans up against the car next to him which might not have been the best move. He smells good and it has been a _while_. "You live here a few years? The fuzzy wuzzys carving folks up gets to be a regular weekly activity - like bingo."

He looks over at her, grinning and she's so naked right now. Naked, on the hood of the car, and there might even be some screaming involved. His grin widens and she checks that, _definitely_ some screaming involved.

"Sam was right about you, Ms. Sullivan," he lays out his cards and Chloe really, really has to send flowers to Santa. The brothers Winchester are the best fun she's had come along in a very long time. "You're definitely my type."

She snorts. "I have breasts and a pulse, of course I'm your type."

Dean drops his head, laughing. "I think I'm in love."

She pushes off from the impala and goes to her car for her laptop. "Not yet, but you will be."

*

If he's not in love, Chloe definitely might be. The problem's going to be picking one. Sitting on the bed with one brother at each shoulder, she's got her laptop balanced on her knee and both of them leaning in to read.

"So you're telling me that this wolf somehow ingested large amounts of this meteor substance and..."

"Went Arnie on us?" Chloe nods. "It's happened before with bugs." They both shudder at that and she makes a mental note. Something new to Google. "It's possible that he might have gotten swarmed by some like Greg did, or hunted small animals that had been feeding off plants growing in an area with a high concentration of the rock..." She shrugs. "Anybody's guess. All I know is this is Smallville, if there's something batshit insane running about there's probably green glowy involved somewhere and yet the EPA swears it's harmless."

"Gotta love the government," Dean grunts.

"If I'm looking for a nice expose, yeah." She affirms. "Either way, I'm guessing this is more animal than person. The tracks around the bodies seem to back that up but..."

"We don't know for sure because anybody who gets close to this thing ends up dead." Sam takes the laptop, flashing a quick smile at her, and she watches him anxiously (it is her baby after all, it's taken her years to get it tweaked right) while he sorts through her records. "Which is usually the catch-22."

Dean's leaning around her, supposedly to watch Sam but he's a little too close and looks a little too amused for her to buy it, "So, any particulars on these rocks we need to be worrying about?"

"Just don't ingest any or it's you we end up chasing," Chloe leans back, grinning when he looks disappointed. "And avoid the Talon from here on out," he lifts a brow and she waves a hand at his face. "Let's just say skin boy in St. Louis isn't your only deceased look-alike and leave it at that."

He's got no idea what she's talking about, she suspects he will just as soon as she leaves and Sam attacks their computer, but he nods. "You offering to deliver?"

She smiles, slow and wicked. "Depends on my tip."

Dean laughs, Sam groans, and Chloe licks her lips. Except for the people turning up dead, this is the most fun she's had in months.

*

So, it turns out she was right on the White Fang call. The wolf turns out to be big, grouchy, with eyes of a suspiciously familiar green glint. Sam and Dean empty a couple shotguns into the thing before it even slows down and, from the relative safety of the car, Chloe clutches the borrowed gun tighter and wishes she could tell them the whole truth. Risking their lives like this, they deserve to know that she's not telling the whole truth about where the wolf came from. They deserve to know it might be another LuthorCorp experiment but she can't make herself say the words, couldn't when they were in the room, can't when they slide into the car panting with exhaustion.

Dean grins at her, exhilarated with the hunt. "Another day, another near-death experience."

She laughs a little, nervous and thin. "I'd tell you that you're insane but I think you're already pretty sure about that one."

"Been telling him that for years," Sam comments from the backseat, similarly high. They're both so pumped up on adrenaline, she's sure that now is not the time to even suggest the idea of the wolf being man-made. Lex and his growing list of experiments are her problem to deal with, hers and maybe Clark's. It's the last barrier she can't quite cross. Whether it's old loyalty to a former friend or a wish to protect new ones from the world she lives in, she doesn't ask herself. She's not sure of the answer or she's not sure she wants to know the answer. It's just another question she's afraid to ask tucked away in the back of her mind for a day. "But it never sinks in."

Dean throws a feigned smack his brother's way, but Sam dodges it easily. "Y'ok, Sullivan?" He asks, taking the gun from her and sliding it into the glove compartment. She's glad to see it gone, would rather her laptop any day. "You're looking a little pale. Thought you're the expert around here."

"I am," she manages, "I'm not good with playing second fiddle." Which is the truth, she's never been one for hiding behind a protector. She spends more time protecting them instead, someone has to do it and she's got a knack. "Any sign that it wasn't the only one?"

"Nope," he shakes his head. "Doesn't mean there aren't any others but, wolves...pack hunters. There'd be some sign there's more." He looks back at his brother, she knows there's a conversation being had in looks and gestures. The kind of nonverbal language developed by siblings. "Course, we could stick around for a while...just in case. Don't want to take off and then have to come back in a week or two. Gas prices these days?" He whistles, making her duck to hide a grin. "Waste of money, man."

"Yeah," Sam chimes in, his voice all but screaming how little he buys *that* one, "just as well stay..."

She laughs, pushing her earlier conflict from her mind. "God, you two are so full of shit."

"Well *yeah*," Dean starts the car, "thought you were the ace reporter, Sullivan. I'd've seen that one a mile away."

Okay, he's hot but she may just have to kill him.

*

"You're lying about something." Dean's comment comes out of nowhere and she's the one who jumps this time. He appears in the doorway of her kitchen, two cups of coffee in his hands. "Sent Sam in for it," he says by way of explanation. "Didn't want to accidentally induce labor," she twitches a grin, he nods. "Google is a beautiful thing."

"Amateur." She holds out a hand for the coffee, which he gives her. "You know, I distinctly remember locking that door."

Shrugging out of his jacket, he gives her a look of innocence that'd make Gabriel jealous. "Funny thing, it came right open for me."

Chloe closes her laptop, pushes it aside out of his reach. "Seems I'm not the only liar around."

"It's a skill," he agrees. "And you feel like sharing or do I have to seduce it out of you?"

She sips the coffee, trying not to moan happily at the taste. She's had coffee in almost every major city in the world, but none of them beat the Talon. Nostalgia can do wonderful things to the taste buds. "You can seduce anyway," she says when she swallows. "We're definitely the romantic comedy subplot in a Sci-Fi television movie, might as well accept the inevitable and get right to the orgasms."

Dean chokes, grins, and looks sheepish all in the same breath. "You," he accuses, wiping at his chin, "are a menace."

"I'm from Smallville," she returns serenely. "You'd be surprised what living here does to a girl and, yes, to answer your question I am lying to you." She shrugs, puts the coffee down and plays with the lid. "I'm not going to stop either. Believe me, Dean, the only thing Smallville has more of than meteor rocks is secrets. Everybody from the garbage man to the mayor is hiding something...I'm a reporter, it means I know half of everything they know and suspect all the rest."

He nods, seeming to accept it for now. She knows better but she'll wait until he tries again. "Something about our canine corpse?"

Chloe's hesitation lasts long enough to be an answer all its own.

"You got it covered?"

Again a hesitation, this time with a downward look. She's got it covered, Clark's on speed dial and Pete's playing spy. The old gang back together, partners in betrayal. "It's covered..." She says finally, looking at his hands and wondering about the things he's had to kill with them. "Believe me, Dean, it's not a Winchester kind of fight but, I promise, if I need a hand..."

"Or a shotgun," he agrees, eyes glinting with a promise that's got nothing to do with fighting monsters and billionaires gone awry.

"Or a shotgun," Chloe echoes. "Some day, Dean, I'll tell you, I promise." She sucks in a breath, picks at a chip in the table's surface. "I just can't say when." She's lived with these secrets so long she can't imagine letting them out, something she has a feeling he can understand. There are an awful lot of bodies and an awful lot of whispers in his past, things most people wouldn't even think existed much less believe.

He's the perfect guy, right down to the screwed up life.

She might be in love.

*

"Damn," Dean looks at the thick envelope in his hand and then at Chloe with disbelief. "We actually get *paid* for this one?"

"Well, there was a reward for killing the thing, right? And you did kill it..." It's a nice chunk of Luthor change and she can't think of anyone who deserves this more. "It's only fair." She quirks a grin, remembering the look on the sheriff's face when she lugged the carcass into her office. By now it's been reclaimed by LuthorCorp employees, no doubt dressed in 'borrowed' fish and game uniforms, and off to wherever bad experiments go to be dissected and assessed. It's worth it, she's already paid a visit to Lex, done the usual ten-step dance about it and she just doesn't have the energy to fight the good fight on this one. The thing is dead, the town is safe until the next thing, and she's feeling a little vindictive.

"Believe me," she continues, stretching up to kiss his cheek. "Lex has a few billion more where that came from."

"Oh I'm not complaining about that one," he grins. "Thought you might have more use for it."

He's sweet, he doesn't want to admit it, but he's sweet. Laughing, she assures, "I'm not in any danger of being kicked out on the street just yet, but thanks. Save it for the next time you need bail money, I'm sure that's a pretty regular occurrence. Plus? Less credit card fraud."

Dean mock-scowls. "Sam's been squealing again?"

"In his defense, there was torture involved," Chloe promises solemnly, eyes full of laughter.

"Better have been." The envelope gets stuffed into his pocket and then Dean's looking at her with an expression that's dangerous. Something that she doesn't want to name, that really shouldn't be happening now, and thinks they're better off not talking about.

She kisses him on impulse, pressing up against a body that's hard enough to make her reconsider saying goodbye. He kisses back, greedy in a way that she loves, his hands sliding down her back and pulling her closer. When they come up for air, she grins. "See you next monster?"

He steals another kiss, lips playing at kissing her which is just frustrating enough to make her body clench in protest. It's Smallville, there's always another meteor freak or monster or near-apocalypse, she'll see him again.

If not? She'll call up Satan himself and arrange one, he owes Lex a few favors anyway.

"See you next monster."

It's a date.


End file.
